


Lay the Lumber on Him

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Frottage, Hospital Sex, Hospitalization, Injury, M/M, Shiro's ass in a hospital gown, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, ear nibbling, meet ugly, no illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26717491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: “And here I thought I was pretty good company.”Keith checks him out as obviously as possible. It’s hard when they’re both wearing ridiculous hospital gowns, but Shiro is lying on top of his sheets, so Keith has an excellent view of his sculpted arms and legs, and even the slight curve of his ass when Shiro moves the right way.“You’re okay,” he says. “But I can think of a few things that are more fun than talking.”
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 214





	Lay the Lumber on Him

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yawarakaimaxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yawarakaimaxx/gifts).



> Thank you so much to Scoops for requesting this fic! It was so fun to write and such a nutty setting to try to work with for this prompt! <3

Keith groans as the door to his hospital room opens again. He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes. “Can’t a guy get some shut-eye around here?” He’s been trying to sleep for the past two hours; if he’s going to be stuck here with his leg up in traction, they can at least give him some fucking peace instead of coming in to take his blood pressure or whatever other bullshit they have to do every half hour. “I thought hospitals were supposed to be understaffed.”

“Sorry to intrude,” an unfamiliar voice says. A new nurse, probably. “Just figured it might be fun to spend the night in a tiny, smelly hospital bed with a cranky new roommate. You know, a break from the ordinary.”

Okay, so, not a new nurse, probably.

Keith cracks one eye to look at the stranger invading his space. Not that it’s _his_ space— he’s not exactly rolling in cash yet, having just started his major league career (which only adds insult to injury, knowing that his rookie year is pretty much a wash after only six games), so he couldn’t afford to spring for a private room.

The stranger looks like an athlete, too, though Keith can’t immediately tell which sport he plays. He looks very strong, and his musculature looks pretty evenly distributed around his body. He has the thighs of a rower, the shoulders of a swimmer, and Keith bets that if he turns around, he’ll probably have the ass of a baseball player. He’s definitely not a hockey player, because Keith would know about him. He knows about all of his competition, and if this guy played, he’d definitely be competition.

“Not a chatty roommate, though. Got it,” the stranger says. The nurse rolls his eyes — which, in Keith’s personal opinion, is very unprofessional — and leads the new guy over to his bed.

“Don’t mind Keith,” he says. “Just sit back and relax. The doctor will be back to talk to you about your injury soon. In the meantime, take it easy. I’ll be in to check up on you later.” He shoots Keith a dirty look. “If he gives you any trouble,” he says to the new guy, “let us know.”

The new guy looks uncomfortable, face turning a rather interesting shade of red, but shrugs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He winces at the motion, so Keith figures it must be some kind of shoulder injury.

Hm. Golf? No, golfers don’t look like that. Tennis? Maybe, but he’s a bit bulkier than most tennis players. Still, it’s possible. Football, maybe! He could easily be a quarterback, or whatever. Keith doesn’t know. Football is a dumb sport.

Still, Keith has always had a healthy sense of curiosity (“thirst for knowledge,” his dad had called it— “sticking his nose in other people’s business,” the less charitable adults in his life had called it).

“I’m Shiro, by the way,” his roommate says, somehow still trying to make small talk.

Keith doesn’t bother to answer. Shiro already knows his name. After a few tense minutes, though, he can’t hold back his curiosity. “Football injury?”

The guy jumps a little in surprise and looks over at him with raised eyebrows. “Hm? Oh, uh, no. Pole dancing, actually.”

“Oh.” Keith rolls his eyes and settles back against his pillows with his eyes closed.

Figures he’d get a hot roommate who does stupid shit like _pole dancing_ for exercise.

“ _Oh_?” the guy asks. “What, not cool enough for you?”

Keith shrugs, eyes still closed as he tries to chase sleep. “Just pegged you for an athlete, is all. Guess I was wrong.”

There’s a moment of silence before Shiro says, “Pole dancing _is_ a sport.”

Keith can’t hold back his derisive scoff. “According to who? You fuckin’ twirl around a pole. Every drunk suburban housewife in the country can do it.”

“Nice,” Shiro says. “Real nice.” Keith can practically hear his eyes rolling. “And what the hell would you know about it? Have you ever tried?”

“Yeah, right,” Keith says. “I’ve been training my whole life to compete in a _real_ sport. I don’t have time to waste dancing around in little costumes.”

“Pole dancing works out every single muscle in the body. Did you know that? I bet I have more muscle control in my feet than you do in any part of yours. I can lift my own body weight _horizontally_. Can you? I can crush a watermelon with my thighs. I have the video to prove it. What can you do?”

Keith sits up to look at the guy. He doesn’t really look angry so much as determined. His expression is clearly challenging Keith to say something else that he can refute.

Keith has never backed down from a challenge.

“Every night when I get out on the ice, I fight guys three times my size and _win_. I can hit a puck at 94 miles per hour. That could _literally kill you_. So yeah, I know about sports.” He rolls his eyes and sits back again. If this guy keeps talking, his eyes are going to roll out of his sockets and onto the floor, and then he’ll be crippled _and_ blind, and that would really slow down his recovery time.

“Ah, hockey. Of course. I should have realized I was talking to someone who thinks beating people up qualifies as a sport, but dance doesn’t. Well, at least I don’t have anyone’s blood on my hands at the end of the day. What _I_ do makes people happy. I don’t need the approval of someone who’s probably had half of their brain cells knocked loose.”

“Hey, watch it!”

Shiro looks completely unfazed, settling comfortably onto the bunk that is almost too small for his big body. He shrugs, no longer bothering to look at Keith or continue engaging in the conversation. Keith huffs but leans back to do the same.

There’s no TV in the room. His phone is dead because he’s been here for three days and his team is still on the road, so no one has brought him a phone charger yet. He doesn’t have his laptop, so he can’t watch anything or even listen to music. It’s totally miserable.

The pain in his leg throbs, and he grimaces, acutely reminded of everything he’s missing, everything he’ll be giving up if his leg doesn’t set right. It makes him feel nauseous. He smashes the nurse call button.

A nurse comes in — a different one from before, so maybe she’ll be nicer to him — and makes her way to his bedside. “Everything okay?”

“I need more pain meds,” he grunts.

She checks his chart and his drip. “I can’t give you any more meds yet, I’m sorry. I’ll make a note on your chart to make sure you get another dose as soon as possible.”

“No, what the hell? It hurts! Come on.”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse repeats. “These meds are very strong. We can’t risk giving you too much at a time. Someone will be back to check on you soon, but we can’t administer any more drugs for the time being.”

Keith closes his eyes and turns away from the unhelpful nurse. Keith never cries, but at this moment, he thinks he might be close.

The door to the room closes again as the nurse leaves. There’s a tense silence, only broken by the muffled general commotion outside the door until Shiro speaks again.

“Hey, you okay?”

Keith rolls his head toward Shiro and opens his eyes again. Obviously he’s not getting any sleep tonight.

“Peachy,” he mutters.

Shiro is looking at him like he’s genuinely concerned, which is completely fucking laughable.

“What do you care? I’m just a bully, right? Punching people’s teeth out for fun, no skill required?”

Shiro’s brows furrow. “First of all, I never said hockey doesn’t require any skill. Second, you took shots at my job first, and you didn’t pull any punches. Third…” he hesitates, expression softening. Keith raises an eyebrow at him, an indication to continue. “You seem like you’re in a lot of pain. I just figured, you know, people tend to lash out when they’re in pain.”

“Maybe I’m just a bastard,” Keith says.

“Maybe,” Shiro agrees. “Or maybe you’re just hurting.”

Keith deflates. All of his bravado is gone, replaced with the ache in his leg and his heart.

“I only got to play six games,” he quietly confides. “This was supposed to be my big break. My chance to finally make something of myself, you know?”

Shiro nods. Keith doesn’t know why he’s pouring his heart out to this stranger, but Shiro doesn’t seem to be judging him. “I understand,” he says. “Can I ask what happened?”

“It’s not even a good story,” Keith huffs. “Some jackass enforcer on the other team tripped me up, then tripped over my skate and landed hard on my leg. Broke it in two places.”

“God, that’s awful,” Shiro says with a shutter. “That sounds so painful.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“I’m sorry you went through that,” Shiro says. His voice is soft and comforting. It’s fucking dumb how nice he’s being when Keith’s been such a colossal asshole to him since the minute he walked in. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Keith answers.

“Why hockey?” There’s no malice in the question, but Keith doesn’t understand. “I mean, of all the sports you could have chosen, I’m sure you’re good at a lot of things. Why hockey?”

Memories of the last fifteen years run through Keith’s mind. He inhales a long breath, then lets it out very slowly as he tries to formulate a real answer.

“It started as a way to get out my aggression,” he starts. “If you can believe it, I was kind of an angry kid.” Shiro chuckles. “I know, crazy, right? I’m so easygoing and peppy, now.”

“Sunnier than the sun itself,” Shiro says. He’s smiling, so Keith knows he doesn’t mean anything by it. It actually feels kind of nice to be teased, rather than looked down on, or worse— ignored altogether. Keith feels himself smile back.

He goes back to his story. “After my dad died, I was passed around between foster homes. Some of them were nice, though, and one of them actually listened to my therapist and enrolled me in sports. They even let me choose what I wanted to play.” He’s not sure if he wants to reveal why he chose hockey, specifically— not sure if he can expose that part of himself to this stranger yet, no matter how kind he seems to be. He thinks about his dad taking him to the ice rink in town as a kid and teaching him how to skate. Something in him cracks every time he thinks about his dad, and especially now, with his future on the line, he feels the ache with every beat of his heart. “I chose hockey,” he says, “because I knew how to skate, and it looked like fun to whack stuff with a stick.”

“You could whack stuff with a stick in baseball,” Shiro points out.

Keith shakes his head. “Too much standing around. With hockey, I’m always moving. Gets the adrenaline pumping, ya know? Anyway, so I got onto a rec team, which meant that even after I got moved to another home, I could still play, since it was for kids all over the city. Sometimes I had to figure out how to get myself there, like taking the bus or whatever if my foster parents wouldn’t take me, but after the first year, the coach started waiving my rec fee since he knew I couldn’t always come up with the money to play. He let me store my skates and stick at the rink so I wouldn’t have to carry them back and forth.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Shiro says.

“He was,” Keith agrees. “Is. He’s still coaching rec, as far as I know. But it’s been years since I’ve seen him. Anyway, he pretty much saved my life. Without hockey, I don’t know how I would have made it through school or the foster system or anything.”

“That’s pretty incredible, Keith. I’m glad you have something like that.”

Keith holds Shiro’s gaze for a long while. He lets himself look at Shiro— really look at him, not size him up like he had when he’d come through the door, but just admire him. He’s actually quite beautiful. Not just his body, but his face, too; he has a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and a straight nose with a handsome scar cutting right across the bridge of it. It makes him look like he’s permanently blushing, which is cute.

“What is it?” Shiro asks after a little while.

“Nothing,” Keith says. He tries to shift, but the traction frame holding up his leg doesn’t allow for much movement. To distract himself, he asks, “So you never told me how you hurt your shoulder.”

Shiro grins. “Are you sure you want to hear about it? It’s _just_ a pole dancing injury, after all.”

Keith flushes hotly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I was a total dick to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” Shiro says, “but I won’t hold it against you, if you won’t hold my comments about hockey against me.”

“Deal,” Keith says, huffing out a laugh. “So? Your shoulder?”

“Rotator cuff,” Shiro says. Keith pats himself on the back for figuring it out so quickly. “It’s super common among pole dancers, actually. Yet somehow, I was still surprised when I went down in the middle of a routine.”

Keith cringes at the thought. “Ouch. That couldn’t have been comfortable.”

“No, not at all,” Shiro chuckles. “It’s not the pain so much as the not knowing, though. It could be a career ender for me if it’s bad enough. That’s the part that sucks the most.”

Keith looks morosely at his own leg. “Yeah,” he says. “I completely understand.”

They lapse into silence. After a while, Shiro’s doctor finally shows up to talk to him. He brings in x-rays and immediately launches into a speech about physical therapy that Keith’s heard plenty of times before, so Keith lets himself doze off to the drone of the doctor’s voice and the soothing sounds of Shiro’s replies.

____________________

Sleeping in a hospital sucks. Doctors and nurses come in and out at all times of the day and night. The halls outside the door are loud. It’s boring and stressful and uncomfortable. And after a couple of nights by himself, he’s learned to appreciate the rest he gets in fits and starts. With Shiro here, at least he has someone with whom he can pass the time.

“How long are you supposed to be here, anyway?” Keith asks. “I wouldn’t think a torn rotator cuff required a lengthy hospital stay.”

“Depends on how my surgery goes, I guess,” Shiro says. “Why? You trying to get rid of me already?” His smile is smug and teasing. Keith realizes with a jolt that Shiro might be flirting with him.

He pretends to think about it. “Hmmm. Well, I guess if you want to stay, you’ll have to earn your keep.”

“And here I thought I was pretty good company.”

Keith checks him out as obviously as possible. It’s hard when they’re both wearing ridiculous hospital gowns, but Shiro is lying on top of his sheets, so Keith has an excellent view of his sculpted arms and legs, and even the slight curve of his ass when Shiro moves the right way.

“You’re okay,” he says. “But I can think of a few things that are more fun than talking.”

It’s extremely gratifying to watch the way Shiro’s eyes blow wide and his face turns an astonishing shade of pink.

“Wow. That got a better reaction than I expected,” Keith teases.

“Shut up,” Shiro mumbles.

Keith can’t help but laugh. Of course Shiro is quick-witted, kind, sexy, _and_ humble.

It’s quiet for a moment. Keith doesn’t realize Shiro is appraising him until he says, “How would that even work, with your leg up in that contraption?”

He grins wickedly back at Shiro. “Maybe you should come over here and find out.”

It’s a blatant come-on, and obviously Shiro knows it. He’s still blushing from his neck to his ears, but there’s a fire in his eyes as he looks back at Keith. “Feisty,” he says. “I like it.”

But he doesn’t jump into Keith’s bed, so maybe it’s all talk.

____________________

By the time Keith wakes up the following morning, Shiro is back from surgery and bandaged up.

“How’d it go?” Keith asks.

Shiro shrugs. “I can move it, so that’s good. But they said there was a complication, so I guess I’m sticking around for a while.”

Keith hates how his pulse quickens at the idea of Shiro staying longer. He’s not supposed to be _happy_ that there were problems in surgery. But still, he finds he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to say goodbye yet.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really,” Shiro answers. “I guess it’s a little tender, but it feels a lot better than it did before.”

“That’s great, Shiro,” Keith says. He smiles. “So I guess this means you’ll still be here when I get out, huh?”

Shiro makes a show of settling into his bed. “Wouldn’t miss it,” he says with a wink. “Besides, if I’m staying even longer, I guess that means I owe you. Gotta earn my keep, right?”

Is Shiro saying what Keith thinks he’s saying? God, he hopes so.

“Right,” Keith agrees. “And the price is higher now. Extension fee.”

Shiro rolls his lips between his teeth to try to hide his grin, but his pink cheeks and mischievous eyes give him away. “I can live with that.”

Keith’s surgery is scheduled for the afternoon, and all he can think about all day while Shiro sleeps off his pain meds is how badly he wants to get his hands on Shiro’s hard body. Shiro must be thinking the same thing, because every time Keith finds him awake, Shiro is looking back at him with fire in his eyes.

When someone finally comes in to wheel Keith away, Shiro wishes him good luck. “See you soon,” he says. It feels like a promise.

____________________

“Hey there.”

Keith blinks toward the voice. He feels… weird. A glance around himself reveals that he’s back in his familiar hospital room. On the bed next to him is an absolute god of a man.

“Well _fuck me_ ,” Keith says. The sexy man bursts out laughing.

“Later, sweetheart. When the meds wear off.”

Keith grumbles. “Gonna hold you to that.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He’s out again before he can come up with a response.

It’s better the second time he wakes up.

There’s a dull throbbing in his leg, but it feels better than it did before. Keith is also delighted to discover that he’s no longer propped up in an uncomfortable traction frame.

“Feeling better?” Shiro asks. He’s wearing an amused smile that does funny things to Keith’s heart, and his dick.

“It does feel good to be able to move,” Keith says. “Still hurts, though.”

Shiro hesitates for a fraction of a second before he says, “I’ll go easy on you, then.” His tone makes it sound like a joke, but the look on his face is part hesitance, part heat.

“Don’t you dare,” Keith says. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

The hesitance disappears and is replaced with pure, wicked lust. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

____________________

The nurses only come by once every few hours at night. Apparently Shiro has come to realize this, too, because a couple of minutes after the nurse leaves, around one A.M., Keith hears Shiro get out of his bed.

The lights are off. The only light getting into the room is the light from the moon and stars coming in through the window and the faint light of the hallway through the little rectangular window on the hospital room door.

Something about the dim lighting, the muffled quiet, and the late hour set Keith’s blood pumping. He feels more than sees Shiro move toward his bed.

“Hey,” Shiro says.

Keith swallows. “Hey.”

“I don’t know if you were joking, but—”

“I wasn’t joking.”

“Okay. Good.”

They’re quiet for a minute, and then Keith remembers himself and scoots as far to the side as he can without letting his injured leg drop from the bed. Shiro takes the silent hint and climbs onto the bed beside Keith. He props himself up on his knees, one knee by Keith’s hip and the other between his legs.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

Keith nods. “You can get closer.”

Shiro leans down and braces himself on the elbow of his good arm. Their faces are so close, Keith can feel Shiro’s shaky exhale.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Shiro breathes. Keith huffs a laugh. He’s nervous, and a little incredulous, but fuck if he hasn’t been thinking about doing exactly this since Shiro’s first day here.

He wants this so badly. He can already feel his cock hardening beneath his flimsy hospital gown. If Shiro shifts just a little, he’ll feel it, too.

“Don’t think about it,” Keith says. “Just do what feels good.”

“Do what feels good,” Shiro echoes. “Okay.”

In one swift movement, his lips are on Keith’s, hot and insistent, sending a zing of arousal through Keith’s veins.

Shiro’s weight settles on top of Keith’s good side. Thankfully, Shiro’s injured shoulder doesn’t have to hold too much of his weight like this, either. How serendipitous that their injuries fit together perfectly for them to fuck in a hospital bed.

Keith lets his hands roam freely. He runs them up Shiro’s bare back, letting himself feel the flex of his sculpted back muscles as Shiro supports his own weight and licks into Keith’s mouth. He tastes so fucking good, like breath mints, and Keith smiles at Shiro’s consideration.

“What is it?” Shiro asks, pulling back just enough to speak but not enough to break the contact completely.

“Nothing,” Keith says. His lips brush Shiro’s as he speaks. His cock throbs. He moves his hands down Shiro’s back and over the swell of his perfect ass. The backless gown leaves no barrier between Keith’s hands and Shiro’s unblemished skin. “Just thinking you should take this thing off so I can feel you properly.”

Shiro pushes himself up with one arm, and Keith can’t help but admire the way his bicep bulges with the effort.

“I’ll take mine off if you take yours off,” Shiro says.

Keith scoffs. “You’ll take yours off _and_ you’ll take mine off.”

Shiro doesn’t argue. He pulls loose the strings at the back of his gown and lets it fall completely open before freeing his arms and dropping the whole gown onto the floor. Then he slides his hands behind Keith’s back to undo the strings on his gown as well, pulling it from his front and dropping it onto the floor on top of his own.

It’s not the first time Keith has thought it, but he has absolute proof now that Shiro is a _god_.

Whatever thoughts he previously had about pole dancing as a sport fly out the window— Shiro’s body is _ripped_. His thighs are like tree trunks, his arms are bigger around than Keith’s legs, and he has what looks like a budding eight-pack above his massive cock.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Keith says with emphasis.

Shiro looks similarly hungry. His eyes rove over Keith’s body in such a lecherous way that Keith can practically feel them on his skin. Without warning, Shiro drops back down and captures his lips in a searing kiss. The hand not supporting his weight drops to Keith’s stomach and strokes across his skin. Keith feels lightheaded at the touch— Shiro’s massive hand is so close to where he wants it, touching him like he’s precious while his tongue explores his mouth.

Keith breaks the kiss to drop his lips to Shiro’s jaw. One of these days, when his leg works again and he can get out of this god forsaken bed, he’s going to use that jaw for its intended purpose: a seat built just for Keith.

For now, he kisses and nibbles across it to Shiro’s ear. He sucks Shiro’s earlobe into his mouth and nibbles it gently. The sound Shiro lets out goes straight to Keith’s dick. Shiro bares down with his hips and ruts himself against Keith’s thigh.

“You like that?” Keith whispers against Shiro’s ear. Shiro just moans in response. Keith resumes his ministrations on Shiro’s earlobe— the more he sucks and nibbles, the harsher Shiro’s breathing becomes.

Keith bends his good leg at the knee and presses it up into Shiro’s groin, increasing the friction and causing Shiro to breathe out a strangled whimper.

“Keith,” he pants. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, big boy,” Keith says. He presses his hands into Shiro’s ass and pulls him forward. He pushes up with his own hips to rut himself more firmly against Shiro’s rock-hard thigh. “Yeah, fuck me, Shiro. Fuck me so good.”

Shiro shifts just a little and it’s enough to make Keith groan in pleasure. With every thrust of Shiro’s hips, Shiro’s cock brushes hard against Keith’s, dripping with pre-cum and sweetening the slide as every nerve ending in Keith’s body responds to every part of Shiro’s body.

“Keith, Keith if you don’t stop I’m gonna—”

Keith releases Shiro’s earlobe with a pop and fists a hand into Shiro’s hair. His other hand continues to pull Shiro against him, rough and fast. He kisses Shiro hard and tightens his fist enough to tug at Shiro’s hair. Shiro gasps into Keith’s mouth. It’s so fucking _hot_.

Shiro shifts, and it puts too much weight on Keith’s leg.

“OW, FUCK,” he gasps, “Shiro, my leg—”

“Shit—” He shifts back quickly, and Keith feels the air rush from his lungs. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Do you need the nurse?”

Keith uses the hand in Shiro’s hair to tug his face close to Keith’s. “Are you insane? You better finish what you started.” To emphasize his point, he rolls his very much still-hard cock against Shiro’s.

“Are you sure?”

“ _Shiro_ ,” Keith growls. “The only person here who’s going to need a nurse is you if you don’t fuck me like you mean it. _Now_.”

Shiro takes the hint and returns his lips to Keith’s. He picks up the pace, faster and more purposeful than before.

“This good, baby?” he pants. Keith opens his mouth to reply but can’t get the words out around a moan thanks to an extremely well-timed push of Shiro’s thigh against his balls. Shiro smirks.

“You did that on purpose,” Keith accuses. Shiro doesn’t even try to deny it.

He says, “Felt like you were getting a little bratty.”

“I thought you said you like that,” Keith counters.

Shiro grins. “I do. And you are very, very good at it.”

Keith moans loudly as Shiro drops his weight fully onto Keith and bites a mark into Keith’s neck. He sucks, _hard_ , until Keith is a panting, writhing mess beneath him.

“You gonna come, baby?”

Keith ruts up against him as hard as he can. He’s chasing his own orgasm now; he can feel Shiro everywhere, his heavy weight grounding and heady at the same time. Keith’s body feels like a coil, drawn taut and ready to spring, just waiting for release.

“Come on, Keith.” Shiro brings his injured arm between them and wraps his hand around both of their cocks, stroking them together at a punishing pace.

“ _Fucking shit_ ,” he whispers. “ _Shiro_.”

“ _Keith_.”

Keith’s orgasm comes fast and hard. He feels his fingers reflexively curl into the meat of Shiro’s ass. The other hand, still in Shiro’s hair, yanks hard, pulling a shocked moan from Shiro. Shiro grunts, and then he’s coming, too. His ass flexes under Keith’s hands. For a few long, sweet seconds, they ride each other like the tide, until they’re both spent and panting.

“Holy shit,” Keith says when he can catch his breath.

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees. “Fuck, Keith.”

They lie together until their heartbeats slow and their sweat and cum dry.

“I can’t believe I just fucked the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in a hospital bed,” Shiro says eventually.

Keith chuckles. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“I’m gonna wake up tomorrow with a wet spot on my gown. This is a dream, right?”

“Better not be,” Keith grunts. “I’ll be pissed.”

Shiro huffs a laugh against Keith’s neck, raising goosebumps along his hairline. “Me too.”

When Keith begins to shift beneath Shiro, Shiro takes it as his cue to peel himself off of Keith and retrieve their pathetic excuses for clothing. He walks to the sink and wets a wad of paper towels to clean them both as best he can, which, after everything, probably shouldn’t make Keith blush as much as he does, but… Well, no one’s ever really taken care of him like this before.

“Thanks,” he says when Shiro is finished and has tossed the wad and handed Keith back his gown.

“For what?”

Keith shrugs. He’s bashful, suddenly. “Being nice to me, I guess.”

Shiro leans down, and though Keith expects a kiss, he’s caught completely off guard when he feels Shiro’s lips press sweetly against his forehead. “You don’t have to thank me for being nice to you, Keith.” He pulls back and looks Keith in the eye. “But maybe I’ve earned your phone number?”

Keith’s heart stutters to a stop. “Yeah. Of course,” he breathes. “You mean…?”

“I’m going to come back and visit you as often as you’ll have me,” Shiro says. “And when you get out of here, I want to take you out. On a real date. Somewhere nice, like you deserve. Is that okay?”

Keith can only nod.

“Good. And after that, I’m gonna fuck you into my mattress so good, you’ll forget your own name.”

Well, if that’s not motivation for a swift recovery, Keith’s not sure what is.


End file.
